hand in hand (in hand in hand)
by danceonthebrink
Summary: love; in six parts. Ame/Can/2pAme/2pCan


Written _for **shadowswhitehog** for the North America One Word Prompt Exchange 2016_

The prompts I picked were **emotions** and **flowers**.

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Matthieu Bonnefois and Matthew Williams

Matthew has known Matt for as long as he could remember. When he was still learning to speak messy Québécois, celebrating his single-digit birthdays, wrapping little fingers around brand-new schoolbag straps, Matt had been right there all along. Matt was a constant, Matt was an always. They had watched each other grow; fresh-faced infants all the way to tired, working adults. And there was no doubt that they would see each other's hair turn silver, skin wither and backs hunch with old age at the end of their lives.

They were in love.

The two liked to reminisce about their times as children; their blossoming romance as adolescents. Gazes hidden under the guise of whatever excuse they could come up with. Sharing a single bed ( _underdeveloped bodies exploring each other's. Caress here, grab there_ ). Stealing sticky maple syrup kissed behind turned backs on Saturday mornings. Exploring.

It had been all too off limits, forbidden even. It was a secret. Matt still felt naughty if he held Matthew's hand in public. Years of keeping something in the dark could make one hesitant in daylight.

Al Johnson and Alfred Jones

Alfred had always dreamed of touching the stars, and touching Al was the closest thing to it.

Because Al was _wild_. Al was free spirited and enjoyable. Al called Alfred pet names and kissed him in the mornings. Al grew flowers and had several piercings.

Al Johnson was fucking cool and Alfred wanted everything to do with him.

And Al wanted to do everything together. He wanted to go to all fifty states with him (so far, they'd been to 23 between themselves). He wanted to go on road trips, with Matt driving and Matthew singing along to the radio while he sat with Alfred in the back. Al wanted adventure, and he wanted Alfred.

Sometimes, Alfred would wrap his arms around Al as they both sped down the highway on Al's secondhand motorcycle, and they would drive until cityscape melted into cliffs and fields. Then they'd stop somewhere secluded at dusk and fuck, hard and breathless.

They could be spontaneous and reckless in their activities. Public sex was barely scratching the surface. Al and Alfred were aggravating, and would often get on the nerves of California's undesirables. They were unapologetic about it, which usually equaled a black eye or concussion.

Not to mention the compulsive activities they'd embark on, usually at the worst of times. Alfred missed the first few minutes of his university entrance exam for one of their escapades, and Al had been late to work or forgotten he even had a shift more than once.

But that didn't matter. They were young, they indulged in their youth. They were in love, and they were free.

Matt Bonnefois and Alfred Jones

There was no denying that Matt found Alfred undeniably beautiful, and he could appreciate that. But that was about where he stopped understanding Alfred.

Alfred had always been a sort of subject of confusion for simple people like Matt. Matt simply did not understand the boy's mannerisms and why he did what he did. For Alfred was unpredictable, a melting pot of emotions and ideas. Matt was accustomed to Matthew's calm yet passive-aggressive demeanour and Al's flat-out blunt personality, so Alfred was somewhat of a riddle for him.

An unsolvable riddle, at that. Alfred always contradicted himself. The boy would say he liked one thing, and ended up settling for something else. Adoring a certain hobby or idea and forgetting all about it in 24 hours. Complaining about a situation with an uncomplicated solution yet not doing anything to solve it. Remembering the tiniest details about Matt, like how he liked his eggs (scrambled, with parsley and pepper) and forgetting his birthday.

Alfred had said that he liked Matt because he was simple and easy to understand. But Alfred did not like other manageable things. If his video games were too easy, he'd change the difficulty. If one of his classes were straightforward and untroublesome, he'd whine about them being too boring.

And that was why Matt was so perplexed. For if Alfred claimed to love one thing but was so all over the place about it, how could he love Matt? Impossible. Confusing.

But if Matt knew one thing about Alfred, it was his body. Oh, how he knew the fresh expanse of Alfred's delectable body. He knew about the tender ahoge that would incite a pretty pink flush on Alfred's face and sometimes _lower_ , if Matt tugged and twisted hard enough. He knew about the spot on Alfred's neck (not quite on his Adam's apple, slightly to the left...), and that if you kissed his inner thigh, Alfred would quiver. Matt knew exactly what to do to get Alfred's cherry lips in a puckered 'o', to make him moan and cry out. He knew how far Alfred's legs could bend back before it started to ache, the ins and outs of his southern regions.

Alfred was the most bewildering puzzle in all of the United States of America, but all the pieces fit themselves together when Matt simply ran a hand up his thigh.

Al Johnson and Matthew Williams

Al loved to spoil Matthew. Shower Matthew with all sorts of gifts; mostly flowers. He would wrap flowers that weren't selling up in ribbons that weren't popular, sprinkle them with glitter that no customer ever asked for, then call it a bouquet and give it to Matthew.

It wasn't like he _favoured_ Matthew, no. Matt hated flowers (and would probably laugh in his face if Al ever tried to woo him with a bunch) and Alfred had shown symptoms of allergy, even if he tried to deny it. Plus, that darling expression Mattie made when Al took extra special care of him made Al's chest flutter pleasantly.

Matthew was the only one to care for Al's refined nutritional needs, and Al was the one who helped Matthew around the house. They enjoyed their domestic life together, cooking, cleaning, gardening together like a pair of dames in the fifties. Which made Matt and Alfred their slob husbands, of course (not too far from the truth, honestly. Those two avoided housework as if their lives depended on it.)

Most of all, they loved to tend to the garden together. Matthew had expressed interest in it for aesthetic reasons, and Al for his love of botany. They could sit outside for hours, with floppy sun hats and lemonade that Alfred bought out to them.

The two had a lot in common, and could talk for hours upon end, sometimes not even gardening. Just sitting in the geraniums, kissing by the pumpkin patch. It was their own 'secret' garden, and they were Mary and Colin. A tender romance, blossomed amongst sweet smelling flowers of May.

Alfred Jones and Matthew Williams

There was no exaggeration in saying that Alfred _adored_ Matthew.

He couldn't quite explain it. It wasn't the same affectionate love he had for Matt, or the intense love he had for Al, but something different. Not better, but different.

Matthew took good care of him. But he didn't baby him, which Alfred was grateful for.

Alfred liked to touch Matthew. He liked to hold Matthew's hands in his own, feel the smooth flesh (he _totally_ moisturised). He liked to kiss Matthew's pink lips, watch his cheeks mirror the colour. He liked to play with Matthew's hair, twirl around the golden strands that were so like his own.

Alfred liked Matthew, he guessed.

Al Johnson and Mathieu Bonnefois

Two characters such as Matt and Al together was equivalent to walking on a tightrope. It _could_ be done, but it was extremely dangerous and could easily go wrong. Any slip-ups would result in injury.

And injure they did. Flying punches, aggravated by an off-hand remark – screaming matches that filled the air with static. They were violent, almost made brutal with each other. Words, actions, _especially_ actions. Al felt as though their quarrels always seemed to end with one of them fucked against the nearest hard surface.

If it didn't end in sex, it would certainly end in tears. Not necessarily always their's.

Al was not perfect. No, that title went to his most exuberant lover, Alfred. Because Alfred was gorgeous. Alfred was ambitious and attractive and radiated charm. He had inherited his mother's million dollar looks, and a watered-down, childish version of his father's charm, which was somehow better. Alfred could be arrogant and selfish and rude, but got away with it because of how damn _charismatic_ he was. (Of course, the honeycomb blond locks, starry cornflower eyes and sun-kissed skin helped.) Alfred was made to be stared at, a true all-American sweetheart.

Matt was not perfect. No, he paled in comparison to his oldest friend and lover, Matthew. Matthew was always so intelligent and precious - "what a _darling_ little boy", the neighbours had crooned. Matt's own parents would praise the child on his academic achievements, while Matt hid jealous frowns behind his own C-average report card. A future CEO in the making, Matthew had shown massive potential from a young age, always shining above and beyond (above Matt). He was arguably the most successful in their quartet, rolling in the numbers and press conferences since he'd graduated from his Ivy League college.

But Al was tough, and Matt (seemingly) had no weakness. They were in love, truly. They loved Alfred and Matthew, as they loved them back and loved each other. It was complicated to wrap one's head around, yet made perfect sense to them.

Of course they didn't _entirely_ hate each other. Al would die before he'd ever admit it, but Matt was kind and enjoyable in his own way. And Matt liked having Al around, at the very least. It was enough.

It was love, he supposed.

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Can you tell that some parts were more rushed than others? I left the Alfred and Matthew part to literally the last day, I was completely stumped. And I didn't know how to end this, so crappy ending for ya. (By the way, Matt and Alfred were my favourite part. Tell me yours in the reviews!)


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